


Seconds and Hours

by katelusive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Beards (Relationships), Blowjobs, Canon, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous porn, Kinda, Light BDSM, M/M, Smut, creative canon, intolerable fluffiness, that's a genre now, unjustified amounts of banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katelusive/pseuds/katelusive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the moments in-between that make up a relationship, stitched together between the bright, loud memories.  For Zayn, it's always been Liam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seconds and Hours

**December 2010**

 

On Thursday, the day of the funeral, he wakes up to a barrage of messages from Liam.  It’s snowing outside, thick flakes gathering on the windowsill of Zayn’s bedroom, and he can hear his sisters bickering in the next room. He rolls over in bed to read the texts. 

**Zayynnnnn :)**

**Hope u are ok**

**how is your family**

**ok** he replies.  **sad. how are you**

 **miss you badddd :(** Liam sends back right away. 

Zayn hesitates a moment with his fingers poised over the buttons.  Is it too much to say it back?  Too sappy? The thing is, he _does_ miss Liam, with his button-up shirts and his bright goofy smile and the way he cries with frustration sometimes in rehearsals when he can’t get it just right. 

 **miss u too x** he types.  It’s ridiculous, but as he stands beside his sisters later that afternoon, he wishes Liam were there too. 

When he gets back to the X-Factor house, he’s immediately ushered to a rehearsal.  It goes terribly.  His voice cracks more often than it doesn’t, and the boys’ sympathetic eyes – even Louis patting him on the back – only make him feel worse.  They don’t make it successfully through the arrangement once. 

Later, Zayn’s sitting on his bed, flipping through his iPod, unable to pick a song.  Music is too evocative right now.  His eyes prickle with tears that he resolutely refuses to let fall. Once he starts crying, he’s not going to stop. 

Then Liam pokes his head through the door, straightened blonde hair and concerned eyes.  

“Hey,” he says with a smile.

“Hey,” says Zayn, taking out his earbuds.

“Alright?” 

Zayn shrugs, eyes on his lap. “Fine.” 

Liam sits down on the bed next to him. “You don’t look fine.”

Zayn shrugs again, and Liam wraps an arm around him. So easy, like he’s been doing it his whole life.  Zayn swallows, leaning his head awkwardly against Liam’s shoulder.  He’s warm and solid, comforting.  His hair smells inexplicably like icing.  

“It’s okay,” says Liam.  His other arm folds around Zayn as well and Zayn sags against him, eyes closed, breath hitching as he tries not to cry. 

“It’s all gonna be okay,” Liam says softly into his hair. Zayn presses his face briefly against Liam’s throat, eyes burning.  Gratitude feels like an avalanche in his chest but he doesn’t have the words, all he can say is “Thanks,” quiet and muffled against Liam’s hoodie. Liam pulls back and gives him a tentative little smile. 

“Sure,” he says.  Their faces are very close, Liam’s eyes big and brown and warm.

“You smell like a cake,” mumbles Zayn. Liam huffs out a little laugh, one arm still wrapped around Zayn’s shoulders and then his lips are pushed against Zayn’s, soft and warm, so brief he might’ve imagined it. It’s over before it even began.  Liam looks towards the door, arm falling from Zayn’s shoulder, fingers fidgeting in his lap.  

“I hope you feel better,” he says. “We were all worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay,” says Zayn slowly. His mouth feels tingly, heart pounding a little too hard.  He wonders if Liam can feel it.  “Thanks.”

“Uh, the lads are playing table tennis,” Liam says, gesturing vaguely at the hallway, “if you wanna come down. Louis kicked me off his team for trying to enforce the rules.”

“No rules allowed,” says Zayn. “I’ll be down. Give me a minute.”

“Okay,” says Liam, standing to walk towards the door. 

“Leeyum,” says Zayn, and he turns. “I, um.  Missed you.” 

Liam smiles, head tilted, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie.  “Yeah,” he says, biting his lip. “Me too.”  

***

**April 2011**

 

It’s past midnight but Zayn isn’t the least bit tired. It’s always hard to sleep after a show, nerves jangling, keyed up on adrenaline.  Usually it makes him a master of focus, a video game god, but tonight he can’t concentrate.  Liam’s being such a fucking tease, sitting pressed against him with his hand cool and friendly on Zayn’s leg, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s probably why he ends up losing to Louis for the fourth time in a row. 

“No one can stand against me!” Lou shouts, ear-splittingly loud, holding his controller up like a trophy.  

“Settle down, boys,” says Paul from the front of the bus.  Louis ignores him, shrieking victoriously like a bird of prey.  The door closes with a sharp, exasperated _snick_.

“You got lucky,” says Zayn, trying to ignore Liam’s fingers drumming so light and casual on his thigh.  “I beat you all the time.”  

“Luck has nothing to do with it. I’m a legend.  I’m unstoppable.” 

“Unstoppably annoying,” Zayn mutters. “Okay, we’re going again. Head to head.  You and me.” 

“No, I’m sick of playing you. I need a real challenge. Styles wants a chance.”

“He does not!  He’s asleep!” 

“Dreaming about taking me on,” says Louis wisely. “I can tell.  I’m in his head.  Wake him up, your champion demands it.” 

“I’ll play,” Liam offers.  His fucking hand is still on Zayn’s fucking leg, so nonchalant, like he does it all the time.  There’s no reason at all for it to be there.  There’s also no reason it should be turning Zayn on so much, but of course it is. Everything Liam does turns Zayn on, and it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“Here, take it.”  Zayn hands him the controller and Liam smiles.     

“I’ll avenge you, Zayn,” he says. His hair is wild and curly in the sea-humid night air coming in through the open bus windows. 

“My hero,” replies Zayn in his girliest voice. Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Quit flirting and square up, challenger. You disgust me.” 

“Flirting?” Zayn squeaks indignantly. Liam winks at him. 

“I’ll take this clown out for you, babe,” he says. “Then I’ll carry you off into the sunset.”

“Gross,” says Zayn, wrinkling his nose. It’s just a joke, of course. It’s always a joke. He loves it and hates it at the same time.  Liam’s hand on his leg, arms around him onstage, lips pressed close to his ear as he whispers. Always sitting a little too close, going a little further, pressing the limits. 

But when it comes down to it, at the end of the night, Liam’s going to close the curtains in his bunk and call his girlfriend, and Zayn’s going to turn his music up loud and pretend he can’t hear.

Heavy metal guitars blare from the screen as Liam picks his character.  Louis’ face is tight with concentration.  Liam leans against Zayn, their arms pressed together, and Zayn swallows.  He should move.  Liam’s oblivious, but that doesn’t mean he has to fall victim to it. 

“Kill him,” he says. 

“Pure slaughter,” says Liam.  He shifts and his bare leg pushes up against Zayn’s as well, sweaty and warm.  Zayn should move, but he doesn’t.  

***

**February 2012**

 

It’s a grey, cold morning in some exhaust-smelling hotel car lot. He’s hungover and leaning against the side of the bus, trying to enjoy a cigarette, when Liam troops down the stairs in his jogging clothes and hops onto the pavement. 

“Hi,” he says, eyeing Zayn.  “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” says Zayn sarcastically. 

“No, I just mean – you look tired.” 

“I am tired,” says Zayn.  “Where are you gonna run?  Up and down the highway?” 

“I dunno,” says Liam, scratching his head. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe I’ll just do some press-ups.” 

“Press-ups, naturally,” Zayn snorts, shaking his head. Liam is ridiculous. 

Liam shrugs and leans against the bus next to Zayn. “You feeling alright?” 

“Been better,” Zayn admits, flicking ash onto the ground.  

“It uh, it sounded like you – had fun last night.” He looks carefully away from Zayn when he says it, and Zayn wants to shove him.  

“Yeah, I did,” he says simply. 

“Your boy seemed nice.  I saw him when he left earlier.  What was his name?  Reggie?” 

“Arden,” says Zayn.  He takes a long drag of his cigarette, wishing he had brought his sunglasses outside.  It’s not bright but that way he could avoid Liam’s eyes without it being so obvious. 

“Arden, yeah,” says Liam, arms crossed, staring at his trainers.  “Kind of a weird name.” 

Zayn rolls his eyes.  “Didn’t think about it.”   

“Bit noisy, wasn’t he?” 

Zayn shakes his head, meeting Liam’s eyes with exasperation.  “Liam, I don’t want to talk about this.  Do you have a fuckin’ problem or something?”  

“No!  Of course not,” says Liam, pursing his lips.  He looks very much like he has a problem.  “Just – kinda hard to sleep.” 

“Sorry,” mutters Zayn.  Liam is right, actually – Arden had been quite loud. It was hot though, desperate and sloppy, and exactly what Zayn needed.  He doesn’t regret it.  

“It’s alright,” says Liam softly, with a weird expression.  “My fault for sleeping on the bus.  I chose convenience over practicality.”  He checks his watch. “I can’t believe you’re even up this early.”  

Zayn shrugs.  “I couldn’t sleep either.  I’m going to take the world’s longest nap later.”  

Liam huffs out a little laugh, scuffing his shoes against the pavement.  He reaches out and catches the sleeve of Zayn’s jacket.  “I want a cigarette,” he says.  “Can I have one?” 

“No,” says Zayn, shaking his hand off. “You don’t smoke.”

“How do you know that?” 

“I know everything about you,” says Zayn tiredly. “I’m with you every day. You never smoke.” 

“You don’t know everything about me,” says Liam, head tilted, eyes catching the morning sun peeking out from behind a cloud. He looks at Zayn with an unreadable little smile.  “I’ve got my secrets.”   

***

**July 2012**

 

Liam’s been texting Danielle incessantly all day and by the time they’re finally alone – after four interviews and the most interminable meet-and-greet of all time – Zayn’s about ready to slap him. _Pay attention to me_ , he wants to whine, but that’s too needy.  Instead he bites Liam’s arm, a nice solid chomp that leaves a satisfying mark. 

“Ouch,” says Liam with an injured look. “What was that for?” 

Zayn shrugs.  “You look biteable.”

“I’m not biteable.  I’m very soft and tender and you need to respect that.” 

“I can never respect a man who describes himself as tender,” says Zayn, stretching across the couch like a cat, nestling his head into Liam’s lap.  Liam’s fingers twine absently in his hair, tugging gently. 

“Stop that,” says Zayn, “you’re gonna mess it all up.” 

Liam doesn’t stop.  Zayn bites his thigh.  

“Ow! Quit it,” says Liam.  His phone buzzes and he picks it up again, brow furrowed. Zayn’s heart clenches tight and dark. 

“Stop texting,” he complains.

“Sorry,” says Liam.  “It’s just – you know.  Danielle just finished work, she wants to chat.”  

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. Zayn grits his teeth. For someone in a so-called open relationship, Liam sure spends a lot of time “chatting” with Danielle. Most people would call it fighting, but of course Liam likes to sugarcoat things.  And although Danielle had been the one to open it, she hasn’t exactly kept her feelings private about Liam hooking up with Zayn. 

“Tell her you’re with me,” he mutters, and Liam gives a little laugh-snort. 

“Yeah right.  Just give me a minute,” he says, petting Zayn’s hair with his eyes on the screen.  

“No,” says Zayn obstinately, twisting his head around in Liam’s lap.  

He can feel the shape of Liam’s dick just beneath his joggers, semi-hard against his cheek.  Liam makes a little noise in the back of his throat when Zayn nuzzles his face against it.  His fingers tighten almost imperceptibly in Zayn’s hair. 

Zayn kisses it through the material, just brushing his lips over it, and Liam inhales sharply.  He drops his phone on the couch and trails his other hand along Zayn’s back, up his shoulder, loosely gripping his arm. 

“You like that Payno?” Zayn whispers. 

“Yeah,” breathes Liam, fingers clenching gently in Zayn’s hair.  _I bet you do_ , thinks Zayn.  He pulls back and tugs on the hem of Liam’s joggers until he shifts his hips up, letting Zayn pull them down to mid-thigh. He’s half-hard already, lips parted as he stares down at Zayn.  

Zayn bites his lip, looking up at Liam through his eyelashes. Then, without breaking eye contact, he takes the head of Liam’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently.  

“Ohfuck,” says Liam, head falling back against the couch.  His cock is stiffening in Zayn’s mouth, precum gushing over his tongue.  Zayn slides his mouth down farther, gentle and slow, until his nose is against Liam’s pubes.  He stays like that for a few seconds, not moving, enjoying the feeling of Liam’s cock hot and thick against his tongue, pleased that he can take it all the way without choking.  Then he pulls off, secretly enjoying Liam’s noise of disappointment. 

“Please don’t stop,” says Liam, eyes wide and pleading. He’s so fucking cute. Zayn wants to absolutely wreck him. He wants to blow any thoughts of Danielle permanently out of Liam’s mind.  He slides off the couch, onto his knees between Liam’s legs, pulling his shorts down around his ankles.  

“You want this?”  He licks his lips, shooting Liam a loaded look. 

“Yes,” Liam whispers, cock fully hard and bobbing against Zayn’s cheek.  

“Say please, be polite,” says Zayn, grinning up at him. Liam bites his lower lip. 

“Please Zayn,” he says in a shy little voice that goes straight to Zayn’s dick.  He takes Liam’s cock into his mouth, relishing the way Liam’s breath hitches as he gets a hand around the base.  He bobs slowly up and down, sucking on the head and making Liam groan. 

“That’s so good,” Liam mumbles, fingers in Zayn’s hair, gently pushing his head down further.  Zayn licks up the shaft, swirling his tongue around the head in the way he’s quickly learned will drive Liam wild.  Predictably, Liam’s fingers clench in his hair and he moans, thrusting up into Zayn’s mouth.  

“Ah Zayn, fuck yeah,” he breathes, and Zayn’s own dick is painfully hard against the zipper of his jeans.  He reaches down one-handed to press on it, anything to get a little relief.  

He deepthroats Liam again, slow and precise, and Liam swears.  His phone buzzes beside them on the couch, but Liam doesn’t seem to notice.  He’s whimpering as Zayn moves faster, bobbing up and down on his cock, eyes upturned to watch him.  

“Oh yeah that’s it,” Liam groans, making eye contact that has Zayn moaning around his cock.  “Fuck, I’m gonna come soon, Zayn –“ Zayn moans again with encouragement, sliding his mouth faster on Liam’s cock.  

“Oh my god,” Liam stutters, fingers threaded painfully hard in Zayn’s hair.  

Zayn pulls off, breathless, and says, “Come on my face.”  

Liam stares at him, mouth opening and closing silently. Zayn bites his lower lip with an embarrassed little grin.  Liam’s blushing hard but he stands up over Zayn and grabs his dick, reaching down with his other hand to touch Zayn’s cheekbone.   

“You sure?" 

“Don’t make me beg for it,” says Zayn, licking his lips.

“Oh god,” Liam groans, stroking himself one-handed, all shyness forgotten, his other thumb at the corner of Zayn’s lips. “Open your mouth, let me see,” he moans and Zayn does, sticking out his tongue obscenely like he can’t wait to taste it. 

“Oh fuck oh _fuck_ ,” hisses Liam, jerking his cock and then Zayn feels hot cum spurting across his face, dripping down his cheeks, into his mouth.  He licks it triumphantly off his lips, smiling up at Liam, who’s staring at him like he’s never seen him before.  Then Liam hauls him up by the arm and kisses him, cum and all. 

“Bet you’ve thought about that a few times,” Zayn mumbles against his mouth.  Liam’s still panting a little, shaking his head, his smile wide and disbelieving. 

“No shit,” he says.  His phone buzzes insistently on the couch, but Liam holds Zayn’s gaze, smiling.  “Gotta get you cleaned up,” he says.  Instead he kisses him again, one hand at his waist, the other dropping lower to press against the front of his jeans.  

“Oh please,” mumbles Zayn against his lips, and Liam pushes him down on the couch. 

***

**September 2012**

 

“This is actually quite romantic,” Zayn remarks, taking a sip of his soda as they stroll along the sidewalk back towards the hotel. It’s a lovely day, cool and crisp, and the air smells like apples.  “Our first official date and you take me to Subway.  Classy.” 

Liam grins at him.  “Oh thank god, I was so nervous,” he says, trying to slide his hand into Zayn’s back pocket.  “How am I doing? Still love me?” 

“Stop it, you’re going to get us yelled at again,” says Zayn, glancing nervously behind them.

Liam looks back at Sam, who’s walking a few feet back and pretending like he’s not watching their every move. “Ask me how many fucks I give.” 

“How many?” 

“Zero,” says Liam, snagging Zayn’s drink out of his hand. “Zero fucks.  Quit hogging it, I thought we were sharing.” 

“You said you hate Pepsi!” 

“Well, I’m thirsty now,” Liam replies, taking a long sip from the straw.  “Can I at least hold your hand?  Will I get told off?” 

“Don’t,” Zayn warns.  Liam hands him the drink back with far more finger contact than necessary, grinning cheekily.  

“Come on Zaynie, I know you want to.” 

“Actually I don’t fancy getting locked in my room all night, thanks,” says Zayn.  “Keep your paws off me.”  

Liam pouts.  “It’s not fair.  I should be allowed to grope you in public if I want to.”  

“Sorry babe,” says Zayn under his breath. “We’ll make up for it later.” 

Liam grins at him.  “Now that’s what I like to hear.” 

There are a few fans nudging each other and taking pictures on the other side of the road, and they explode into shrieks when Liam waves at them.  

“Hi Liam!” 

“Zayn! Zayn!" 

“Liam!  Look over here!” 

“Take a picture with us!” one of them begs. Liam glances behind him.

“No photos,” Sam says quietly. “Keep moving.”

“Sorry girls,” Liam calls, and Zayn gives a little wave.

“I love you, Zayn!” screams one of them in a thick German accent.  Liam grins and ducks his head to hide it. His fingers brush against Zayn’s, a small secret touch.

As soon as they’re in the elevator, once Sam’s gone – probably reporting their long list of public sins to Simon – Liam presses up against Zayn and kisses him.  Zayn kisses back, hands coming up to hook in Liam’s belt loops, their tongues finding each other.  Liam pulls away and smiles.

“Finally,” he says, heaving a huge sigh of relief. Zayn laughs delightedly. 

“You’re so weird,” he says.  “Better hope there aren’t security cameras in here.” 

“I don’t care, I’m in luhhve,” Liam replies, dragging the word out nauseatingly, grinning at Zayn.  Zayn smiles back, he can’t help it.  He’s so lost for Liam. Liam’s got Zayn by the fingers, by the hips, by the heart.  “Bring on the cameras.  I want everyone to know.” 

“Maybe someday,” says Zayn, as the bell dings for their floor, and the doors slide open.  “Come on, Casanova, I’m starving.  I want my sandwich.” 

*** 

**December 2012**

 

“You know I had no choice,” snaps Liam as soon as the door closes, eyes hurt and angry.  “Why are you mad at me?  You’re acting like I wanted to do this.” 

Zayn shakes his head, staring determinedly over Liam’s shoulder.  “I’m not fucking mad at you, Liam.” 

“It’s not like you’ve got it any different from me. I mean, how do you think it makes me feel that everyone thinks you’re with Perrie?  What’s the fucking difference?” 

“I never actually _dated_ Perrie, for one,” says Zayn, eyes snapping up to Liam’s face.   

“You fucked her, though,” Liam points out, crossing his arms. 

“That was one time, and it was ages ago. Danielle was your fucking _girlfriend_.  And she hates me.  I don’t want her around you.” 

Liam’s sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, clearly exasperated.  “You know I don’t have a choice,” he repeats.  “I don’t want to fight about this, Zayn.” 

“I don’t want to fight about it either,” Zayn bites out, but the fury and hurt is swirling in his chest with nowhere to go. It’s not Liam’s fault, he knows that, but it’s been a long fucking day. 

“You’re doing a great impression of someone who does want to fight,” says Liam, glaring at him.  

“You’re one to talk!”  

“I’m not fighting, I’m defending myself,” Liam mutters, arms crossed, glowering at Zayn.  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”  

“You just went along with it. You probably could’ve convinced them to get someone else for you.  Anyone but her.”  

It’s not really true.  It wasn’t Liam’s fault, but it’s too much, too painful, and the words are spilling out of him unchecked.  His nerves are shot with the drama of the last few days and he feels like he’s barreling down a hill at top speed. 

“That’s not fair, Zayn.”  Liam’s voice is stretched tight and thin.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? You didn’t even try.” Zayn knows he’s being mean. His heart pounds fast and hard, mouth dry. Liam’s shaking his head, lips set hard and angry.

“Listen to you. You think I like this? You don’t think this is hard on me, too?”

They stare at each other across the bed, Liam’s brow furrowed, mouth quirked in an angry pout.  He’s cute even when he’s mad.  It doesn’t seem fair.  Something breaks in Zayn, a tiny waterfall, and he blinks to stop the rush of tears from spilling down his cheeks.  

“I know it’s fucking hard on you,” he says after a minute, fisting both hands in his hair.  He flops back against the bed with a groan.  After a minute, Liam crawls up to lay next to him.  Zayn can hear him breathing, feel the warmth radiating off him. 

“Zayn, I’m here with you,” says Liam quietly. “I’m yours.  You know that.  I’m not the enemy here.” 

“I know,” Zayn mumbles, arm over his eyes. “I’m sorry.”  

“I’m sorry too,” says Liam.  He rests his chin on Zayn’s shoulder, pressing his forehead to Zayn’s cheek.  “I’ll fight it, Zayn. Maybe I can get them to choose someone else.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Zayn says softly, turning his head towards Liam.  

“I don’t care if I get in trouble,” says Liam, chin lifted defiantly.  “It’s not fair to either of us.  It shouldn’t be like this.” 

Zayn twists onto his side to face Liam. Liam kisses him, a soft press of chapped lips, chaste and warm.  Zayn presses their foreheads together, eyeball to eyeball, too close to see each other properly.  His hands find Liam’s hip and he pulls him even closer.  

“I know you didn’t have a choice,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m a twat.” 

“I’m sorry you’re a twat too,” says Liam. Zayn bites his nose and he yelps with a tiny giggle.  

“It’s just been tough lately,” Zayn murmurs. “It feels like – no matter how hard we try, everyone wants to tear us apart.” 

“I know,” says Liam.  “We won’t let them, though.  We’ll make it, Zayn.  I promise you.” 

He pulls back and meets Zayn’s gaze, eyes dark and serious and full of tears.  He presses one hand to Zayn’s cheek, cupping his face.  “You can count on me,” he says, voice steady and strong even while his lips are trembling.  “I’ll be here for you. No matter what happens.” 

Zayn swallows against the lump in his throat, overwhelmed.  

“I love you Leeyum,” he whispers. Liam gives him a wobbly smile.

“I love you too.”  

***

**June 2013**

 

Zayn was certain Liam would make some snarky comment after what happened with Harry, but so far he hadn’t say a word. It was an accident, obviously – Harry trying to talk in his ear and Zayn had tilted his face up at just the wrong moment to brush his lips along Harry’s cheek, dangerously close to his lips. 

He saw Liam’s eyes narrow and tried to give him an apologetic shrug but Liam was already turning away, pouting. He ignored Zayn for most of the concert, bouncing around and flirting with the crowd, dancing with Niall. 

It was only later, on the stairs just before Little Things, that Liam had leaned down casually to whisper to him. “Think of a good safeword,” he breathed into Zayn’s ear, giving him an instant erection that he squirmed to conceal. “You’re gonna fuckin’ need it tonight.” 

Now, back at the hotel, he’s got Zayn’s wrists pinned behind his back and his cock buried thick and unyielding in his ass. Zayn squirms in his lap, his own cock bobbing untouched against his stomach, achingly hard. 

“Fuck me, _please_ ,” he’s begging, same as he has been for what seems like an hour. Liam shakes his head, one hand gripped tight and painful around his wrists and the other digging into his hip, holding him still.  

“He doesn’t get to touch you,” he says, biting out each word with disgust.  “He doesn’t get to look at you like that.  He definitely doesn’t get your mouth on his face, like you’re gonna fuckin’ kiss him. Is that what you want, Zayn? Wanna kiss Harry?”

“No,” Zayn whimpers.  

“Who do you belong to?”  Zayn wants to grind down, shift his hips, anything for a little friction but he can’t move with Liam holding him in place. Liam’s really making him work for it tonight.  

“You, Leeyum,” he whispers, biting his lip. 

“Louder.” 

“You,” he whines, and he’s gonna come without even getting fucked if Liam doesn’t hurry up.  There’s nothing hotter than this: Liam dominating him, teasing him, trying to humiliate him.  He loves it.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Liam grunts, and Zayn can feel his cock twitch inside him.  He moans, unable to help it.  

“You like that?” Liam leans forward and licks his ear, stubble tickling Zayn’s skin.  “You little slut.  You like telling me what I wanna hear?  You’d say anything just to get me to fuck you, wouldn’t you?” 

“Leeyum, please!” 

“Say it.  Tell me what a dirty little slut you are for me.”  

“I’m such a little slut for you,” Zayn whispers, cheeks burning.  “I’d do anything for you.” 

“Oh yeah,” Liam breathes, biting his lip. “You wanna get fucked, little boy? You ready to take my cock?” 

“Jesus Leeyum, yes!” Zayn’s definitely going to come, or maybe die, or maybe just explode into a million pieces. This is not a drill. 

“Ask me nicely,” says Liam with a crooked little grin, eyes dark with lust.  Zayn would follow him to the ends of the earth just to see that look in his eyes. “Call me daddy.”

“Please, daddy,” Zayn whispers. 

“Please what?”  

“Please fuck me, daddy,” he mumbles, trying as hard as he can to push his hips down on Liam’s cock.   Liam won’t let him. 

“Louder, Zayn.  Beg for it.”  

“Please!” Zayn’s nearly crying with want, eyes half-shut. “I’ll be good, I promise! Please fuck me!” 

Liam releases Zayn’s wrists with a low groan, both hands around his waist, pushing him down on his cock. Zayn bites back a scream. He’s not going to last long at all. Not with Liam fucking him like this, moving him up and down on his cock, using him like a toy. Liam’s hair, so carefully styled earlier, has come loose over his forehead, clinging in sweaty tendrils. 

“Oh my god babe,” Liam whispers, panting with his mouth half-open, eyes sliding shut.  

“Harder,” Zayn pleads, clutching Liam’s shoulders. Liam wraps an arm around his lower back and drives up into him so hard their bodies are jolting. Zayn drags his nails down Liam’s arms, scrabbling at his back, and Liam’s forehead drops against his shoulder, hot and sweaty.  

“Fuck,” he bites out, muffled against Zayn’s skin, then he’s whispering, breathless, into Zayn’s ear again: “Tell me how bad you wanna come.  Ask me for it.” 

“So bad, oh please,” Zayn begs, pressing his cheek against Liam’s.  The feeling of Liam’s cock filling him up him is almost too much to handle.  He can barely get the words out, voice a thin needy whine. “Please daddy, can I come?” 

“Yes baby,” says Liam, pulling back with a little grin. “Good boy.”  He fucks up into Zayn, one hand at his hip and the other wrapping loosely around his cock, giving him a few rough strokes just the way he likes it.  They lock eyes and then Zayn’s coming with a strangled shout, so hard it’s almost painful, spurting thick and hot between their bodies. 

“Oh fuck yeah,” Liam growls, reaching up to smear cum across Zayn’s cheek, rubbing it over his mouth.  “That’s my good boy.” 

He kisses Zayn roughly, biting his lower lip, fingers digging into Zayn’s waist.  Zayn moans into his mouth, loud and shameless.  “That’s my good little slut,” Liam mumbles against his lips. “I bet you want daddy to come inside you, don’t you?”  

“Yes please,” whimpers Zayn, barely able to speak, eyes closed with his head tilted forward against Liam’s shoulder. Liam’s arms are so tight around him, thrusting up into him hard and fast. 

“You fuckin’ love this, don’t you,” Liam breathes into his neck, and Zayn nods frantically.  There’s almost nothing he loves more in the world than watching Liam lose control.  

“I can see it on your face how bad you wanna take my cum. Tell me how bad you want it.”

“God, yes, so bad.” Zayn’s already getting hard again. Liam doesn’t talk dirty very often, but when he does, it’s devastating.  

Two can play at that game, though, and Zayn knows exactly how to take Liam apart. 

“You know I want it, daddy,” he whispers sweetly, brushing his lips against Liam’s earlobe in that way he knows drives Liam crazy. He pulls back with a coy little smile, and Liam shudders.  Liam always loses it when Zayn talks to him like that, wide-eyed, innocent and filthy. Zayn grabs Liam’s hand and licks the tip of his thumb, sucking it into his mouth, staring at Liam from under his eyelashes.  

“I want your cum so bad.  Oh please give it to me, daddy.  Fill me up with it.” 

“Aw _fuck_ babe—” Liam groans, thrusting into him so hard Zayn gasps. Then he goes completely still, body rock solid as he unloads into Zayn, arms locked around him in a death grip, veins standing out in his neck.  Zayn moans at the feeling of Liam’s cock pulsing as he comes.   

Liam’s forehead knocks against his, hand hot and trembling against his face. 

“Holy fuck,” he breathes against Zayn’s cheek. 

“Don’t move yet,” Zayn whispers, and Liam smiles. Zayn kisses him on the mouth, tongue swiping gently between his lips.  

“I love you,” he says, breathless.

Zayn has never felt safer in his life than he does like this, Liam all around him and inside him, skin on skin on skin. Liam kisses his cheekbone, the corner of his eye, the middle of his forehead.

“I love you so fucking much.”

***

**October 2013**

 

“Zayn, what are you doing?  We have to leave!”

Zayn looks innocently up at him, remote in one hand and the other splayed up over his head.  He’s freshly showered, still wearing a towel.  “Uh, I’m watching a show?  It’s really good.  Watch it with me.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” says Liam, shaking his head in disbelief, but he lets Zayn tug him down onto the couch and give him a kiss on the cheek.  “You were supposed to get your hair fixed half an hour ago.  Paul’s gonna be pissed.”

“I’m always late,” Zayn says with a shrug. “I’m sure they’re used to it.”

“ _I_ get told off every time,” says Liam.  “You’re dragging me down with you. Tarnishing my good name.”

On-screen, a dark-haired lady lays facedown in a pool of blood.  “That’s gonna be me if we’re late,” says Liam, pointing.  He smells very fresh, clean linen and expensive aftershave.  “What are you watching?” 

“Forget what it’s called,” says Zayn. “There’s this millionaire murderer. He’s on trial for killing his wife. Lots of twists and turns. Bit hard to follow.”

“I’m going to become a millionaire murderer,” says Liam, “and you’re going to be my first victim.  Please get dressed.” 

“I’m too pure for this world anyway,” says Zayn, rolling into Liam’s lap.  “Can’t we just skip it? I hate Sugarscape. Call down and say you’re ill and I have to care for you.” 

“I’m leaving without you in five minutes,” says Liam, reaching down to graze his lips against Zayn’s collarbone. Zayn shivers.  “Don’t make me Sugarscape alone.” 

“Fine,” says Zayn, undoing his towel and throwing it on Liam.  “Give me ten.” He walks naked out of the room, swaying his hips exaggeratedly. 

“Five and a half,” says Liam, but he’s smiling.

***

**December 2013**

 

It’s freezing outside, and Zayn’s still cold despite the fact that he’s wearing about five layers of clothing. It’s a nice night though, clear and magnificent, millions of stars spread out across the sky like a diamond tapestry.  The car has arrived, sleek and black, but Liam’s still fumbling around in the foyer. 

“Come on Leeyum!” he calls.  

“Sorry,” says Liam with a grin, pink-cheeked, locking the door behind him.  He's suave and stunning in his black suit, like a movie star, except for his bright goofy Liam grin. “Oof, it’s colder than I thought.”  

“Yeah, bloody freezing, isn’t it? Let’s go, I’m starving.” Zayn starts walking down the front path towards the car. 

“Zayn, wait, can you hang on a minute?” asks Liam in a funny little voice. 

Zayn turns around and Liam’s on his fucking knees right there on the damn walkway, gazing up at him with his eyes all big and earnest. 

“What,” he starts to ask, but the words die in his mouth.  His heart pounds out of control.  Liam swallows, opens his mouth, and then closes it.  He smiles up at Zayn, and god, he’s fucking beautiful.

“I had this whole speech planned out,” Liam says, laughing. “I honestly – I can’t remember it.” He reaches out and takes Zayn’s hand, staring up at him.  Zayn thinks he can see stars reflected in Liam’s eyes. 

“You had a speech?” he asks slowly. Liam nods, grinning, eyes overbright with unshed tears.

“I think I’ve got the gist of it,” he says. Zayn feels frozen in time. He squeezes Liam’s fingers and Liam squeezes back. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Zayn asks softly, and Liam bites his lip, cheeks flushed pink from the cold or from something else, Zayn can’t be sure.  

 “I love you Zayn Malik,” Liam says, tears threatening to spill over. His lower lip wobbles but his voice is solid and sure.  “I love you, body and soul, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you marry me?” 

At first Zayn can’t even answer, he just pulls Liam up and kisses him.  “Liam,” he mumbles against his lips, arms wrapped around him.  He can’t feel the cold anymore.  He can’t feel anything except Liam’s arms around him, Liam’s face pressed against his. 

“Is that a yes, then?” Liam asks tentatively. 

“Yes,” Zayn declares, laughing incredulously. “’Course I’ll marry you, Leeyum.”

“Great,” says Liam, smiling so hard his eyes are squinted shut, even as a few tears run down his cheek.  "I wanted to surprise you. How'd I do?" It’s a miracle that he’s not full on sobbing. Zayn always expected he would. 

Zayn kisses him again, hands locked around his lower back, lost in the familiar taste of his mouth.

“I love you,” he says forcefully, heart so full he feels like it might burst.  Liam lifts him off the ground and whirls them around in the driveway, all strong arms and giddy laughter.

“We’re getting married!” he shouts, which is so dorky that Zayn wants to kiss him five thousand times.

“Congratulations!” calls Paddy from the car. “You’re late for dinner!”

In the car, Liam gives him a ring. It’s simple and elegant, a silver-black band that fits him perfectly.  Zayn can’t stop looking at it.  Liam’s on the phone with his mum, still crying.  Zayn leans against him.  

“I think so, I’ll ask him,” says Liam. He ducks his face into Zayn’s hair. “Do you like the ring? My mum wants you to know she helped pick it out.”

“I love it,” says Zayn, examining it for the millionth time. “It’s amazing.”

“He loves it,” says Liam.  “Look, I’ve gotta go mum.  I need to be romantic.  I’ll talk to you later.”  

Zayn nuzzles up against his neck. “We’re getting _married_ ,” he says, because he still can’t quite believe it. It’s too good to be true. “You’re going to marry me.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” says Liam, smiling down at him. “Just a fair warning, I’m going to be _very_ sappy during dinner. And into the foreseeable future. I hope that’s okay. I’ll probably cry a lot.”

“You’re already crying,” Zayn points out, swiping his thumb across Liam’s cheek.  “I’m used to it.  You always cry. You’re a sensitive man.”

Liam kisses him on the nose.  “I’m full of feelings.  Let’s facetime your sisters.” 

***

**July 2014**

 

Zayn’s barely through the door before Liam’s crowding him against the wall, kissing his neck hungrily, lips sliding wet-hot down his throat.  He moans in surprise, hands coming up to fist in the back of Liam’s grey t-shirt. 

“I missed you,” Liam murmurs against his skin, hands up under his shirt, tweaking his nipples. 

“It was just a few hours,” Zayn says, panting a little as Liam palms his cock.  “Aw babe, yeah, that’s nice.”  

“I _missed_ you,” Liam repeats, undoing Zayn’s belt.  He slides to his knees, tugging down Zayn’s jeans.  Zayn sucks in a breath.  The sight of Liam on his knees will never, ever get old.  Eyes upturned and wicked, gorgeous pornographic lips parted, ready to wrap around the head of Zayn’s cock.  

“Mm,” says Liam, licking his lips indecently. Zayn cups the back of his head, already shaky with arousal, nudging his cock against Liam’s mouth.  

“Oh yeah, give it to me,” Liam mumbles, darting his tongue out to lick the tip.  

“Aw fuck,” breathes Zayn, leaning against the door for support.  Liam’s staring up at him as he takes his cock into his mouth, inch by inch, hot and maddeningly slick. He grabs a handful of Liam’s hair, thrusting his hips forward to make Liam choke.  Liam gives a muffled moan.

“You like that, babe?” Zayn murmurs, fisting his hand tighter in Liam’s short hair.  “You like having my cock down your throat?”  

“Mmhm,” moans Liam, lips stretched pink and obscene around his dick, and fuck, Zayn’s so hard he feels dizzy. He gets his other hand into Liam’s hair as well, holding his head steady, thrusting into his mouth. 

Liam’s gagging on it shamelessly, just taking it, staring up at Zayn with his eyes wide and wicked, like he knows just what he’s doing. Which he clearly does. Zayn’s not sure what he did to deserve this, but he makes a mental note to do it more often.  

“Ah god,” Zayn moans, feeling his balls tightening up. Liam’s got both hands behind his back, pliant and submissive, perfectly willing to let Zayn grip his hair and fuck his mouth. “Oh fuck yeah, take it babe.” 

Liam sucks more enthusiastically, eyes fixed on Zayn’s face.  It’s too much, too good, Zayn’s drowning in it. 

“Fuck, Lee,” he breathes, already feeling it building deep in his belly.  “I’m gonna come, fuck—“ 

His head falls back against the door with a _thunk_ and his fingers tighten in Liam’s hair, probably painfully hard, but he knows Liam likes it rough sometimes. Zayn’s hips surge forward as he comes, cock deep in Liam’s throat, and for a few seconds he thinks he might actually pass out.  

Then Liam’s rocking back onto his heels, eyes watering, wiping his mouth.  He looks up at Zayn with a secret, knowing little smile. 

“You,” says Zayn, breathless, staring down at him. 

“Me,” Liam agrees.  He stands up, nuzzling against Zayn’s throat.  He’s rock-hard in his joggers, pressed casually against Zayn’s thigh.  

“What was that for?” 

Liam bites his neck, gentle but possessive. “You know why. They can send you out to take pictures with her all day long, but once you get home, you’re mine.”    

“Aw Leeyum,” says Zayn.  His brain feels fuzzy; his heart’s on fire. He’s the luckiest person in the world.  He kisses Liam, cupping the back of his head, wrapping his other arm around his waist. “I’m always yours.”

***

**September 2014**

 

Zayn wakes up in the middle of the night and reaches for Liam, but his fingers brush empty sheets.  He pads out into the hallway in his bare feet to find Liam standing half-naked in front of the open fridge, hair sleep-tousled. 

He wraps his arms around Liam from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder.  “What are you doing?”

“I dunno,” Liam mumbles.  “I can’t sleep.”

“You’re not supposed to eat after midnight, it’s bad for you.” 

“Who cares?  Everyone already thinks I’m fat anyway.” 

“You’re not fat, Lee,” says Zayn, nuzzling his face against Liam’s back.  “You’re perfect.”

“How about making me a curry then?” asks Liam, twisting around to smile at Zayn.  “If I’m so perfect.” 

“I’m not making you curry at three in the morning. Eat some crackers and come back to bed.” 

“Fine,” Liam agrees.  “But I get to grope you until I feel better.”

“Deal.” 

*** 

**April 2015**

 

“Unf,” says Zayn as Liam gently strokes the hair off his forehead.  He cracks open one eye and then the other.  Liam has a big goofy grin on his face, eyes bright, hair clinging to his face in sweaty tendrils. 

“Good morning sunshine,” he says. “How are you feeling?” 

“Dead,” says Zayn, closing his eyes again. His head pounds painfully in time with his heartbeat, reminding him that he is (unfortunately) very much alive. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” says Liam. “Although I’m more sorry for myself. I’m the one who has to sort your affairs out.  I’d better inherit your fortune.”

“I’m never drinking again.  Never in my life.”

“Until the next time Harry invites you to a party at Nick Grimshaw’s.” 

“I hate Harry.  I hate Nick Grimshaw.  And I especially hate you for not coming.  Why are you all wet?”

“Jogging,” says Liam, nuzzling disgustingly into Zayn’s neck. “It’s a sauna out there, it’s quite nice today.  Are you getting up, or should I call my mum and tell her we can’t come to lunch because you’ve died?”

“No, don’t call her,” Zayn rolls over and gets a faceful of Liam’s sweat-soaked shirt. “Ugh, gross.  Take a shower, you animal.” 

“You love it,” says Liam, wrapping both arms around him.  He smells like a locker room. “You love me.  I’m the best.  I made you a Belgian waffle.”  

“Where is it?”

“Downstairs on the counter.”  

“Why didn’t you bring it up?” 

“Because it’s a bribe.  Gotta get it yourself.”

“You’re the worst,” Zayn mumbles, sitting up and scrubbing both hands across his face.  “Oh my god.  I think I’m actually leaving my body right now.  Take my pulse.”

“You’re fine,” says Liam, kissing him merrily on the shoulder.  Zayn wants to smack him. He has no right to be this cheerful when Zayn is inches from death.  “Get in the shower.” 

“Come with me.  I need support.”

“You need professional help, that’s what you need,” says Liam, but he’s grinning.  “Alright, give me a second.”  

Zayn flops dramatically back on the bed and presses a pillow over his face.  “Kill me,” he says, muffled.  “Feed me my waffle, then kill me.”  

Liam pulls the pillow off and the sunlight once again claws agonizingly into Zayn’s brain.  Why, he wonders, does Liam have to open _every single_ blind in the entire house _every single_ morning?  He loves the sun more than he loves Zayn, and it’s very disrespectful.

“Do I have to carry you?”

“Yes,” Zayn whispers.  “Carry me outside and bury me deep in the earth.”

“Bit hot for that.  Might have to wait for sundown.” 

Liam scoops him up easily, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek.  Zayn gives a disgusted yelp as sweat droplets from Liam’s bangs rain down onto his face.   As soon as Liam deposits him in the shower, Zayn slumps to the floor and rests his head against the cool tiles. 

“Bring me my waffle,” he mumbles. Instead, Liam pulls off his shirt and turns on the water, which is fucking _freezing cold_ , and hops in with him.  Zayn wants to shriek, but the best he can manage is a gentle, pained moan.

“First let’s get you cleaned up. You’re a hot mess. You know I can’t stand a mess.” 

“Too late, you married one,” Zayn murmurs. He tips his face up to look at Liam, who is beautiful with soap in his hair and one eye squinted shut, a red imprint around his waist from the tight elastic of the shorts he’d been wearing. Liam grins down at him.

“Stand up, weirdo.  At least pretend to make an effort." 

Zayn struggles to his feet and leans against Liam, forehead pressed to his chest.  Liam rubs the back of his neck, fingers strong and soothing. 

“You’re the weirdo,” Zayn mumbles, hugging him tight around the waist.  “That feels so good. Don’t stop.  Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t,” Liam promises.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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